


It's So Cute I Wanna Puke

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: LowRes [6]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Witty Banter, but no actual fucking, implied sex by starlight, lots of Mexican food, lots of fucking fluff, marcus POV, voyeristic view of LowRes and Wrench's relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Amethystwinchesterpanda asked: Hi! I recently discovered your LowRes series on AO3 and I'm totally in love with it. I was wondering if you were going to continue it and if you are, I wanted to have it be Wrench and the reader discussing all the things they love about each other while the others are around, and Marcus is the only one who figures out that Wrench showed his face to another person, but the others are clueless. And it's just sort of really cute and maybe ends with some fluffy smut, if that even makes sense .-.A/N: Sorry to say, there is no balls out smut at the end of this one, but I hope I fit the bill for the rest of this. It was fun writing something more dialogue heavy. Also, hope it's cool, but I wrote this from Marcus' POV. Enjoy!





	It's So Cute I Wanna Puke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmethystPanda6](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystPanda6/gifts).



Marcus catches LowRes and Wrench mid-conversation, chilled to the bone from the Frisco winter, with Horatio on his heels. They’d just spent the better part of three weeks digging out leads from Prime_Eight’s servers, linking them to a bunch of collective data sold and distributed through Tezca’s illicit drug smuggling channels. And what better way to celebrate their victory than the best Mexican food the San Francisco Bay area has to offer? Nothing - nothing short of a fucking rave party in the desert, with one white-golden angel chasing Marcus and his sneakers down into the sand.

Maybe with a bit of foreplay before the Jabberwocky blows a load of flames.

“-your predisposition for forgoing a screwdriver over a sledgehammer?” LowRes says, “I suppose that’s pretty dashing of you.”

“Fair enough, my forthright companion!” Wrench replies, sounding like he's on some game show with a microphone on center stage. Dude sounds like he's half way into a six pack as well, and only just starting. 

“How’s about anything and everything? - Including those feeble ass burps when you’ve had a couple beers. You know how I like my damsels. Weak and malleable.”

Marcus walks down the stairs, into the warm air of Headquarters with a box of tacos and a six-pack, Horatio behind him with the burritos and Red Bulls. By the looks of both LowRes and Wrench, both lounging against the Wrench Bench, it’s probably safe to say they're about midway into a soft core mating ritual, and thankfully the man still has his pants on. The last time Marcus ran into the two of them it was hard to make eye contact for a few days after, and a week to quit thinking about what exactly he’d witnessed. Somethings you just can't unsee... 

“Dude,” Low laughs, elbows on the bench and that cute round ass shoved out like a beacon, “I'm a lady. Besides, your burps suck. Also,” she pauses to point, getting double mad-slashes off Wrench’s mask and an electric huff, “I need more details. You can't just say everything and anything. Specifics, Wrench. Specifics.”

Marcus drops the taco box on the opposite end of the table - far enough away from Wrench and LowRes to think clearly. The strong waft of Mexican food explodes into the air and while the smell floods HQ, Marcus does a quick check on his phone for a response from his main girl Sitara. A selfie from the purple-haired Wonder Woman, sticking her tongue out just outside the big crab by the docks, lights up his dash, followed by a quick, no-nonsense text. 

‘Be there in a few.’

Even if Horatio gives him shit for it later, Marcus lets himself smile like a lovesick puppy, about as bad as those heart eyes Wrench gives LowRes every other minute. But, fuck it… Marcus has no shame when it comes to shit like this. 

Over at the Wrench Bench, totally oblivious to the mountain of meat, cheese, and tortillas, Frisco’s most infamous masked vigilante starts reciting poetry with all the humility of a stray dog. Guess Marcus isn't the only one making a fool of himself, he thinks, pocketing his phone. Or the only one whose shameless for that matter.

“The way the moonlight shines off your hair - the stuff you do with your mouth…” well, maybe not poetry, Marcus thinks, but the weirdo sure made it sound convincing there for a second, “like that right there!”

LowRes does look pretty dope - looks kind of sexy with her lower lip pulled in like that, not that Marcus would say that shit out loud. There were certain lines no one crossed with Wrench or best friends for that matter, and one of those things was hitting on someone else's girl. So far, despite the closeness between everyone, no one's made a faux pas big enough to get their resident anarchist lit light Fourth of July. May everyone make it to the end of the motherfucking line without triggering another Wrench Rage. 

Swiping his thumb over Low’s full bottom lip, Wrench lights up with those happy, double carets and continues, “You look like a cute baby puffer fish with your lips all pouty like that.”

Man, one of these days, home girl was gonna show him what for. Hopefully, when that time comes, everyone will be within a safe blast radius when Wrench tickles her nerve. 

“I'm not pouty,” she replies, looking pouty. “Also, I'm starting to feel like these are turning into insults, you fucker.”

“I love it when you curse,” the twin hearts Wrench sighs at LowRes kinda sells it, at least in Marcus’ humble opinion. Those two can be so love struck it’s gonna make everyone sick one of these days. If they ain't gettin’ caught with their pants down then they're giving each other heart eyes; Wrench being literal in that aspect. It’s a good thing there’s no indication when Wrench is thinking about dirty shit, cause that would make day to light awkward as fuck...

Across HQ, up the stairs, the whoosh of the door signals a new arrival. 

Right on time, Marcus thinks, hearing the tap of familiar soles on the stairwell. Just before the two love birds on the bench start making his appetite falter, Sitara shows up, looking fly as hell, decked out in snakeskin boots and purple track shorts that go all the way up. 

Off to the side, the chorus from Low and Wrench pipes back up over the smirk Sitara lays on him. Marcus swallows. She oughta be careful. A look like that could slay a man. 

Wrench’s casual robotic tone bounces around the HQ like someone turned the TV volume up to seventy, “You're like my sidekick. Adorable Nerd to my,” his voice deepens, sounding like a shit version of Jimmy Siska, “Wrench: Scourge of the Optics, but fuck me sideways, the stuff that comes out of that mouth?” He points to make his point.

Sitara throws the two of them a cursory look, clicks her tongue and bee lines for the table where Horatio is already unloading all the warm tinfoil-wrapped hacker fuel. 

“Yikes,” Wrench continues, twirling a hammer one-handed while gesturing to the short height of LowRes with up and down swipes of his fingers, “Pretty sure I've gone from semi,” he aims a pointer finger up to the ceiling, “to full mast more than once, cause you just couldn't quit it with the sexy shenanigans.”

Out from his deep-space space, Josh makes a hunched trajectory for the table, looking anywhere but at the bench where all the ‘flowery’ sentiments are oozing from. Ray follows on his heels with that wide-legged gate, looking annoyed. Each of them spares a glance towards the Wrench Bench, but it's Josh that rolls his eyes before sitting down at the table. 

With a slight frown - sleepless bags under his eyes - Josh takes the offered Red Bull Sitara slides his way and starts unraveling a fat burrito with silent delicacy. Under Josh’s breath, he mutters, “They're naming off all the things they like about each other. It's been going on for-”

“Since six-fucking-thirty,” Ray interjects, snatching up a taco with a snarl that looks more like someone shit in his nostrils. “I mean, I get the logistics of it, Marcus, I really do, but a solid fucking hour of this shit? It's enough to drive someone fucking crazy.”

“Give them a break,” Sitara says, smiling, but that green-colored glare of hers goes fully loaded on one Raymond Kenny. The girl could hold both matron and warrior status with gusto. No one fucked with DedSec, that included Ray fucking with LowRes… or Wrench for that matter.

“It's cute,” she continues, dropping the stern look for a soft smile. When she speaks back up, it’s husky and amusing, “Lighten up. Don't let your jealousy get the better of you.”

“Jealousy?!”

“Hey, come on you guys,” Marcus tries, offering up a cold beer to Ray from the frosty six pack, “this here is supposed to be our chill night, right? So no party poopers and especially no bullshitting. A’ight?”

“Fine. I'm cool,” Ray says, taking the peace offering with a flat sneer, “as long as they don't make a mess near my stuff I won't disrupt the delicate ecosystem of hormones or… whatever that smell is...”

“It's dynamite,” Josh adds, staring at the weeping cheese coming out one end of his steaming burrito with mild interest, “He was mixing nitroglycerin with solvents this morning.”

“Oh, well that's just peachy,” Ray grouses, throwing his hand up in the air as beer foam bubbles out the moist bottle, “We’re all gonna get blown to kingdom come and the last thing I’m gonna see is that porcupine sportin’ wood!”

A small splash of beer tips over onto the cement floor as Ray gestures emphatically to the bench where Wrench and LowRes are incredibly oblivious to the commotion at the table. Whatever thrash is coming from the speakers over there must have muffled everything outside its vicinity because they start laughing, shoulders bouncing and like some maniac, Wrench leans in for a boob poke only to get his wrist slapped. 

T-bone watches the juvenile scene and shakes his head; dreads flopping around his shoulders. He looks like he was pretty sick of the goopy shit and Marcus couldn't blame him, but him and Wrench were on shaky ground as it was and LowRes was another low key angle for Ray to pick on the anarchist over. The two of them, both Wrench and Low, could out do a couple of gushy teens if they wanted, but Marcus preferred it over the bickering, and those two were pretty perfect for each other, all undisclosed exhibition kinks aside. Also, if anyone could handle high concentrated explosives, it was the fireworks master commonly known as Wrench.

“Fine!” LowRes laughs from the Wrench Bench, throwing herself up on the edge; legs swinging free in those tight acid-washed jeans, “No more saying fuck… least for a little while. I like the tattoos.” 

“I like your lack of ink or future not-lack of ink,” Wrench declares, moving his hips against her calf in a way that makes Marcus lift his brow, troubled. 

Not this again, he thinks, realizing - thankfully - he can always throw a burrito at them if Wrench starts getting too handsy. It's not like they’ll commit gross PDA with everyone around, more like they have piss poor timing or just plain bad luck or they’re oblivious - like now - of others around them. 

Everyone's learned to make lots of noise when walking down the stairs… that's for damn sure.

“What about your favorite feature? Can't be sexual,” LowRes asks, tapping her thighs in a very Wrench-like gesture of undistilled energy. 

Wrench’s mask dips down to underscores before settling on double x’s, “Give me a little credit. I'm not a Neanderthal. Not where it counts.” He makes a jerking off motion with his incognito fist until he and LowRes dissolve into chuckles, making Sitara throw them another smile before straddling the back of a chair. Marcus offers Sitara a private grin as she opens up one of the pork tacos, looking like she’s coming up with a grand plan of action already. 

Tonight’s supposed to be one of those nights they all forget about Prime_Eight or the Tezca’s… or the bigger public enemy for that matter, and while everyone else is trying to relax their big bulbous brains, Sitara never switches off. Admiral as fuck.

“Well,” Sitara begins, cracking open a beer, “I don't know about you sourpusses, but I’m digging the romantic vibes around here. It's making the creative juices flow, and it’s been six months since I’ve had to hear about Wrench’s meat puppet shows. So, I call that a win.”

Beyond the dome of Wrench’s music comes more electric endearments, all coated in sweet jelly-vibes and sonic undertones, “Hmmm… non-sexual feature that doesn’t rev the engine? Gotta go with the button nose, it's just soooo boopable!” 

Wrench proves its boopability by giving Low’s nose a poke, making a high pitched ‘boop’ noise while flashing her a tilde-caret wink much to her pinched face amusement. Marcus had to hand it to them, they were pretty fucking adorkable.

“Same,” LowRes says, blushing, “I mean your nose… shape. I love the hook of it, makes you look like… I dunno, like Quicksilver. Or maybe the hair has something to do with that. Attitude helps.” She stumbles, looking down right flustered and Marcus realizes, quicker than he'd thought, that she's seen Wrench - the real Wrench that he keeps hidden under the mask - at some point and everyone else at the table, including Horatio, with half a burrito in his mouth, is looking back and forth in complete and utter confusion. 

No one’s seen Wrench’s nose expect Marcus, and… it seems LowRes. He’s not sure why that’s so surprising. With all the humping they’ve been doing and the puke-worthy lovey dovey crap, if anyone were gonna see the Wrench behind the mask, then it’d be her. 

Still, it’s shocking, and it’s even more so seeing all the looks on everyone else's face as they try to piece it together.

Horatio asks a question around a burrito; indecipherable amidst the cheese and beef. Sitara, for all her brains, mouths ‘nose’ in question while spearing Josh, and then a baffled looking Ray, with a narrowed look. Marcus waits a couple moments - waits for the realization to click, but right when the gears start turning, Horatio delves into another bite of burrito only for all its cheesy contents to flood out the end, dropping to the table. 

Everyone’s attention moved to Horatio, dripping with sauce and just like that they all laugh, forgetting LowRes’ comment for the food fail presented.

Even if Horatio hadn’t spilled beef and cheese everywhere, Marcus isn’t sure if they’d have figured it out. The idea of Wrench without the mask has become an urban legend and while some have claimed to have seen his face, Wrench denies it every time.

Josh is the only one that doesn’t look distracted by Sitara helping Horatio towel up the spillage, though the little worry line between his eyebrows says he’s missed the confusion rather than can’t put two and two together. 

Against the thrash music playing, Wrench continues as if LowRes disclosing this information is no biggie, “Hey, no complaints here.” His mask changes from double-carets to twin hearts as his fingers lay a pinch into her side, “I'd ride that bleach-haired slip and slide. Hell, I'd even let you watch.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake… the visual,” LowRes mutters, rubbing at her red cheeks as if that's gonna get rid of the stain, “Kinda hate that you can make me blush so easily… but I kinda love it too.” 

“Yup. Right there. That's another thing. Those pink cheeks,” he pinches one of those for emphasis. “Both front,” his voice dips again, “and back. Also, you said fuck.”

Marcus had to hand it to the dude. That was ballsy and apparently, judging by the big smile it gets him, not without charm. Everyone watches as Low slugs Wrench in the arm, hard enough that he stumbles, laughs and shoves her back until they're playing fisticuffs up and against the bench, making Josh grumble and Ray groan. 

“Damn, Wrench,” Sitara coos from the table, loud enough that it slices through the cloud of erratic tunes and hormones, “Firing on all cylinders already? I’m impressed!”

Without missing a beat, Wrench slams his hammer down on a broken motherboard before facing the group with splayed legs and loose shoulders, “Cylinders, trebuchets, cannons,” he names off epic weaponry on his fingers with a mask full of blinking stars, “The fucking works!”

Sitara tosses a wrapped burrito at him, but LowRes snatches it out of the air before Wrench can get his claws on it, much to the anarchist’s distress. He socks her gently in the shoulder before catching a second food projectile, this one thrown underhanded by a grinning Horatio.

“Soo… “ Low begins after biting into the steaming edge of greasy goodness. Her voice is quieter this time, but the thrash music has settled into something instrumental and when she asks “do you like anything else I should know about?” everyone can hear the hesitance in her tone.

“Your juicy brain,” Wrench tells her, tossing his aluminum-wrapped burrito up in the air.

“The stuff you do with it,” he continues, “That geektastic shit you say twenty-four fucking seven.” 

Every word he says makes Low’s cheeks deeper a darker shade of cherry pink, “I wouldn't say I love it when you're angry, but you get shit done like a Spartan elite sometimes. Hard to keep up, but I like a challenge.” Wrench sets the burrito down, snakes an arm around her waist and from the side angle, Marcus can see the double-hearts Wrench pins her with.

“I love you…” LowRes sighs, lacing her fingers around the leather lapels of his vest, thumbs skimming the studs on his shoulders, “I mean you're probably gonna get me killed one day, but I think that'd be alright. Sorta stupid… but you make me feel alive I guess…”

Wrench hums, “Mayhem and explosions have more meaning now that you’re helping me light the fuse.”

Josh’s head thunks against the table as he emits a low groan. Wrench, without taking his LED hearts off LowRes and her blushing cheeks, kicks a leg back and boots the edge of the table on his end, rattling the six-pack of beer and energy drinks, startling Josh upright. 

“Oh, damn!” Retaliation, Marcus thinks, laughing. 

“Woah, that's so corny,” LowRes comments, still wearing Wrench blinders as the rest of the group starts cursing Wrench up and down. Marcus slaps his thighs, hoots, and hollers at the look of absolute disgust on Ray’s face and Sitara’s charming grin. 

Marcus enjoys the expressions on everyone’s face as LowRes boops her finger against the bulge on Wrench’s mask, where his nose is. The boop triggers twin stars on Wrench’s mask, along with a string of muffled pillow talk and Casanova growls that’s too stupid for anyone to take seriously expect home girl getting the attention, which she soaks up like a dry sponge.

“Speaking of corn,” Wrench muses, “I could masticate a baby Kaiju. Actually, how about I escort you to the back alley for a dinner date?” 

“Oh, fucking hell. I’m sold, say no more. We could keep this puke-worthy evening going full swing without killing everyone else in the process,” LowRes says, acknowledging the rest of them for the first time since Marcus and Horatio arrived with the Mexican buffet.

Wrench lifts her down from the bench with two tattooed hands around her ribs, fingering her sides until she shoves him back with wet eyes and stifled laughter. “Fuck off!” She giggles, sounding like a typical teenager despite being in her twenties. 

“You know what would be even worse?” She asks; refolding the foil around her burrito.

Wrench grabs two beers from the six-pack on the table, gives Marcus a quick fist bump and a tilde-caret wink before galloping up after LowRes, who’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Doing it on a cliff under a sea of stars?” He mentions, smiling with two shiny carets.

“With a blanket on the hood of the car.” 

“Oh my god,” Wrench gushes, shoving his knuckles into her lower back, urging her up the stairs, “You are my spirit animal… the real question is, what car are we gonna steal.” 

“I dunno, something muscly from the eighties?”

Everyone shares a mutual look of question. Ray crosses his fingers in the hopes that Wrench and LowRes just keep heading up the stairs, never to return until they’ve worked off their excess affections. In other words, until they both get laid enough that the timer resets.

“Eighties muscle car.” Wrench’s dimmed voice coos from the top of the stairs, “Coming right the fuck up!”

“I can't wait to see the look on your face when you realize I've tricked you into an actual date.”

The soft sounds of the code being input leave everyone around the table holding their breath.

“Pffffffffff… what's a date?” Wrench asks, releasing a short breath in response to the fist he probably got in his stomach.

“Fucking anarchist.”

… and then quieter; distilled by the door shutting behind them, “Neeeerrrrrd!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read! And thank you Amethyst for the request. I tend to shy away from lots of dialogue, but this gave me a chance to brand outside my comfort zone. If you have time, please leave me a comment letting me know what you thought. 
> 
> Also, thank you to Darth Fucamus for checking this over for me. <3
> 
> Tumblr ----> http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/


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